The Stray Road
by Genis Aurion
Summary: Oneshot, light slash, StanKyle. Stan spent his whole life trying to catch up to Kyle. But that hadn't been the point.


All I have to say is… anyone who knows me well enough (or anyone who's been talking to me recently) should know where I got this idea from. I do proofread as I type, but because of my short attention span I didn't do a final check on this… though it should be all right, still. I apologize for any mistakes!

Other than that, I hope you're all enjoying a marvelous break, and merry belated Christmas!

**The Stray Road  
**_Genis Aurion_

"Come on Stan! Try to catch up with me!"

He was always saying that to me. Ever since we were little, that was all he'd ever say. I think the first time I remember him saying it was back in preschool, when we were busy coloring pictures to give to our dads for Father's Day. Personally I hadn't been a very good artist myself—and my work of art seemed to prove it—but Kyle's had somehow turned out marvelously… for his age of course.

"What's that supposed to be?" a chubby boy by the name of Eric Cartman asked with a funny accent from across the table, pointing to my artwork.

Kenny McKormick, next to him, piqued in with his muffled voice: "That looks like your mom's pussy!"

Hearing the comments and feeling rather disheartened, I hung my head shamefully. "It's… supposed to be my house."

"That doesn't look like a house!" Cartman yelled; "and it does _not_ look like my mom's cat either, Kenneh!"

"It doesn't look that bad," Kyle Broflovski said from Cartman's other side. That was him, Kyle—the one who would forever change the way I saw the world.

"It does too," I snapped at him, furiously shaking my head. "Even Cartman thinks so!"

"Since when does Cartman's opinion matter?"

"I heard that, you Jew!"—but Kyle merely ignored him. Ever since Cartman had made the Christmas season such a big deal against Kyle, the latter had learned to simply ignore his provocations. It was best for us all.

"I guess so," I said at last, giving into Kyle's arguments. "So then I'll ask Miss Claridge for her opinion. Since hers will matter, right—she's the teacher!" Naturally, after that, I got our teacher's attention. She stooped down to my level, peered down at the picture, and made a distinctive face at the sight of it.

"That's a nice picture of the sea," she said in a tone distinctive of all preschool teachers. "Does your dad like sailing, maybe? I think he'll love it."

I ignored Cartman's snickers.

"But what's this?" she continued, making her way over to where Kyle was seated. "Kyle, that's very impressive, what you've done here!"

I rolled my eyes; even though Kyle had been trying to seem modest or humble, it was clear that his picture was better than mine.

"I've met your mother, and that looks very much like her!"—though, Miss Claridge was indeed using the same tone she'd used when commenting on my picture. But still, it was obvious her comments weren't forced…. "Oh, your father must be a short man."

"Wonder how fat Kyle had to draw his mom to make it look like her," Cartman said with a laugh. Kenny joined in with him, but for some reason another thought had come to me; I curiously looked upon Cartman's own picture—and sure enough, there hadn't been a single fat person on the page. And of course, to this day it still makes me laugh—an artist's depiction of himself is almost never demeaning.

"And who's that?" she went on, "is that your baby brother?"

"I don't have a brother," he said simply. "Mom keeps telling me about a baby brother, but he hasn't come yet. So I'm drawing him to remind my mom that she still owes me a brother."

"Right… I see." Eventually Miss Claridge got over her moment of awe and moved on, complimenting the picture of every person that sat between our desk and hers at the front of the room. Cartman and Kenny moved onto other things, and I tried doing the same. I picked up my pencil and began making stick people next to the house—there was no way I'd even attempt doing anything better than that.

"I could teach you how to draw one day," Kyle had said suddenly, and I looked up at him. Serious, green eyes stared at me, gazing at me intently.

"I… I'm all right, I think"—my pride, of course. "Where did you learn to draw so good?"

"Neighbors… they babysat me once, and they taught me. And you should have said well, not good."

"Really?" I asked, mouth dripping with astonishment. "Why?"

"I dunno. Mom says it's bad grammar." Kyle shrugged when I gave him another questioning look, and our gazes turned instead to my picture. "It's not as bad as Cartman makes it out to be, I promise."

"Yeah it is…."

"No it's not!" And then, while I continued to shake my head with self-doubt, he put my picture next to his own. I don't think he realized it then, but it had only made my picture seem… all the more despicable. But in his eyes he was trying to cheer me up, and perhaps that was why I hadn't said anything then.

"See, you've almost got it, Stan. Just do your best and you'll be able to catch up to me!"

And that marked the beginning of what might as well map the majority of my years to come.

-

Kyle managed to outdo me in almost everything I did from that moment on. It didn't help that he was naturally smart, which gave me no hope in ever surpassing him academically. He was just always… better than me. For instance, the day I made a card for my mom's birthday, Kyle showed up with a bouquet of flowers; then, when I had saved up all my allowance in order to buy his mom flowers to repay the favor, Kyle had managed to get his mom a pretty nice looking necklace.

I didn't think Kyle was doing it intentionally, but I wasn't sure either. Yet still, Kyle was always a step ahead of me. Even as years passed, Kyle was always one up. I'd turned to sports—namely baseball—figuring Kyle wouldn't be able to beat me there. But though he never got into the sport of baseball, he eventually got into basketball—and managed to reach a State Championship game before I did.

For more than twelve years I sought this when I could. Even though it didn't define my life, it still outlined my actions. And in those years, I had never managed to "catch up" to him.

Eventually, what I once saw as a game now became an overflowing spring of frustration. I guess it had still been a game—I so badly wanted to beat him at something. But now… my reasons for winning were no longer the same.

I did manage to beat him, though. It was in a physical education class in high school, where we were playing dodgeball. Kyle and I were on separate teams, on my bidding, I guess now, as I'm thinking about it, it wasn't really hardly me "beating" him. But eventually it had come down to just me and him on the field, balls flying in every direction, and I had managed to peg him before he got to me.

My roar had been so loud, I'm sure even people outside the gymnasium had heard me. Kyle looked at me with remote surprise, and I remember being incredibly angry at his lack of enthusiasm. He didn't know it then, of course, but at that very moment I had finally managed to even slightly reach the goal Kyle had set for me all those years ago—and he hardly seemed the least bit interested.

I cornered him in the locker room immediately following. Originally I had planned to do it later, but my frustration had gotten the best of me—it could and would not wait. Thus, before Kyle could even finish changing, I threw my arms at him and shoved him into the lockers behind him.

"What the _fuck_ are you playing at?" I yelled at him, but his response had not been the one I was seeking.

"I could say the same about you, Stan. Where's all this anger coming from, dude? Since when have you been so angry with me?"

"I, you…!" I began flailing my arms in all directions, as if trying to snatch from the air the correct words to use. "This whole time I've been trying to beat you at something, and when I finally do you go acting as if my accomplishment was meaningless!"

I waited for his response. He grimaced as he straightened himself from my assault, and as he braced his left arm I realized I had caused him to bleed. Part of me then wanted to apologize—but I decided against it. At least… not right now. I cared more for an explanation.

"Stan… I'm sorry."

"That's really going to cut it, you think?"

"No, Stan, calm down… listen to me. I'm sorry."—as if the second time was supposed to be any better than the first. But for his sake I listened and let him speak. "I… I didn't know that had been your goal. Even if I had known, I don't think I would've stopped to make your feat easier, though… that would have defeated your purpose. But by not knowing I wasn't aware of the importance of… beating me at dodgeball. Sorry."

"What do you mean you didn't know?" I asked through gritted teeth.

"Exactly what that means. I didn't know."

"You didn't…?" I squeezed my eyes shut. "You don't remember…?"

"Remember what?" Oh, how I had made a fool of myself that day! It hadn't occurred to me then, of course, but it's perfectly reasonable now: I would only remember something so small from my past because I had based almost everything around that one phrase. But Kyle…? That had probably just been a saying in passing. There was no way he could remember something like that from more than twelve years back.

After a few seconds of thought and a few quick breaths, I shook my head and brushed the question aside. There was no point in bringing up something Kyle would hardly remember, and there was no point in reminding him about it either. Of course, Kyle at least now knew my motives, but there wasn't any significance of that event in preschool anymore….

"By 'this whole time'…" began Kyle as he finished dressing up. "How long are we talking, anyway?"

"About twelve years?"

"Damn."

"Yeah, it's been a while… and sorry for the cut, by the way."

"You noticed?" Kyle asked, as if it had been an oddity that I had. "Nah, it's all right. You had your reasons."

"Yeah… I guess I did."

-

"So what now?" Kyle asked me hours later at the front of the school as we were waiting for his mom to pick us up and take us home.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean… this goal of yours."

"What about it?"

"Now that you've beaten me at something—dodgeball—what're you gonna do now? I mean, you said it was twelve years worth of a pursuit, right?"

"Good point." I had given it good thought, about ten minutes in silence; Kyle patiently waited for my answer, and in that time his mom never came… perhaps to my advantage. And when I finally had my answer, I said it as confidently as I could. "I'll keep pursuing it."

"Is there any fun in chasing something you've already chased down?"

I shrugged. "Sure, why not? I mean, I beat you in a one-on-one dodgeball showdown, and you weren't even trying."

"How do you know that?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. "Maybe I really was trying to win the game for myself."

"But… I dunno. It doesn't really satisfy me though. I mean, it's not like you were trying to beat me, knowing my goals."

"I guess. Though I'd have to say, you saying that it doesn't satisfy you…. Seems to me like a complete lie, after today."

"Yeah." The conversation had paused there, mainly because Kyle's phone had rung. While he had taken the call, I continued to think more about the idea of catching up to Kyle. For some reason, it had only been then when I actually questioned why I was pursuing this goal Kyle had set for me long ago, why what he said was even remotely significant. But I couldn't come up with answers then—there was simply not enough time….

"Mom's gonna be here in five minutes or so," he had said once he got off his cell phone. "But yeah… I guess that means you want me to do my best in beating you, too?"

"If you want. I guess."

"Well wasn't it you who said dodgeball today wasn't really you completing your goal because you beat me while I wasn't really trying to prevent that outcome? Anyway, would it be any fun to beat me if I let you?"

"I guess you're right," I said, scratching my head. I really wasn't sure of much anymore. I hadn't taken into account that Kyle might not remember the words he said back in that preschool classroom. Suddenly my motivational drive had become a bet between two friends… but it's not like they were unrelated….

…for just as his mom had pulled in, Kyle extended his hand to me, and as I shook it he uttered:

"Stan… don't think I'm gonna make it easy for you. Do your best to catch up to me, because once you fall too far behind…."

I forgot the rest of the sentence. But what I remembered was enough.

-

May twenty-fifth, several years later. All eyes on Kyle.

Our high school graduation. And he had beaten me again… though it's not like I had any dreams of beating him here.

"My fellow classmates, honorary guests, proud parents…."

"He's really heavy on the adjectives," Kenny remarked in his muffled voice. Thankfully enough, the seats were assigned in alphabetical order (with the exception of the valedictorian and the runner up), which meant I had Kenny nearby to help me pass the time; Cartman being rows ahead of us was simply a convenient byproduct.

"It's just formalities, I guess," I replied, gazing up at the podium where he was making his speech. Who would have known a 7.0 GPA was possible…?—but if anyone could get it, I'm sure it would've been Kyle.

"Wendy didn't do it," Kenny said with a shrug. Wendy Testaburger's salutatorian's speech had preceded Kyle's, and had been very simple and straight-to-the-point—which actually surprised me, granted she seemed like a very vocal person to begin with….

"…we conquered standardized tests, we overcame college applications, we strived…."

"I don't know why, maybe she doesn't really like the whole graduation scene very much." My eyes were still upon Kyle, who was too busy looking around the stadium and addressing his speech to notice me. But in his defense, I was probably just a speck in the graduating class in front of him, anyway. "Anyway, you think we should pay attention to his speech?—I'd feel bad since he's our friend and all."

"Why would you feel bad?—you're already giving him your attention, Stan. In fact, it's a little scary, it's almost like you're giving him the death glare."

"Really?" I peeled my gaze away to turn to Kenny. "That wasn't really what I implied at all."

"Right." A pause followed our conversation, and for a moment we listened to Kyle's speech. He was still going on and on and on about our supposed accomplishments, most of which I hadn't realized our class had achieved. Though from what he was saying, it was almost as if our high school hadn't really produced many successful students before us….

"Has your mom taken you dorm shopping yet?"

"No, not yet. Yours?"

"I'm living at home, remember?"

"Oh, right. So you're just going to school around here, then?"

"Yeah… think I'm gonna decline Colorado State's offer. Too much money."

"So much for rooming together, then."

"Kyle's not gonna be there?"

"Nah… he has bigger dreams than that." And that would be the end of it. After all these years of trying to beat him, I had only managed to do it one measly time, at a stupid game of dodgeball. Now we'd be splitting ways for who knows how long. Who would I compete with, now? What bar would I try clearing?

"…and so to all of you I bid you congratulations! But remember, as a famous poet once said: 'Don't cry because it's over. Smile because it happened.'"

-

A day later, the two of us had spent the entire day at Stark's Pond, lying in the grass near the shore and reminiscing on everything that had happened in our lives. Especially in our younger years, there had been so much that happened around us, I almost wanted to believe we'd been making it all up. We laughed about the good times, remained in silence as sadder memories returned to us, and we'd questioned ourselves when we'd done the stupidest things.

"I wonder if that whale is still on the moon…."

"You think we'd see it at night if we tried…?"

We'd gotten up from our lying positions a few times, mainly to eat the lunch Kyle's mom had packed for us. One time Kyle left for several minutes to find and use a restroom, but otherwise that had been it. We had managed to fill the entire day with things to reflect upon, and it was only when the sun was setting that the actual prospect of college and our future came into discussion.

"So… Princeton, huh? Never would have guessed."

"Why not?" he asked, tilting his head as he always did. "I mean, it's a pretty good school, and I'm pretty sure loads of people have heard of it."

"Yeah, I know, but I mean…." I reached a hand into the sky, as if trying to grab the clouds. "I think everyone was expecting you to get into Harvard or Yale."

"Don't remind me."

"My Kyle isn't perfect, it seems?—our Kyle, I mean," I added once he'd given me a questioning look.

"It's not like you managed to beat me and get in."

"It wasn't about that!" I said with a laugh, amused that Kyle would even think of something like that now… though I wasn't necessarily innocent of that, either. "Besides, you beat me in GPA, class rank, and the prestige of the college you're going to. I think you've got me beat, Kyle."

"If you say so… but there's something else I've been meaning to ask you, too."

"Oh?" There had been no immediate reply. The sun had finally disappeared from the horizon, the last remnants of pink and yellow flickering across the sky. We'd come here at the sunrise—any moment now and we'd have successfully completed an entire day at the lake….

"I asked you this before, and I'm gonna ask it again. What're you gonna do now? I mean…."

I sighed. "I know what you mean. And I… I dunno. I guess I could keep trying to cream you."

"Even when I won't be there?"

"If I get a 4.0 GPA in college, I'll still be on par with your competition, right?"

"I guess. But… if you mess up, you'll have a lot of catching up to do."

_Not again with that…. _"Mark my words, I'm gonna win!"

"We'll see about that." And so, I had found my bar.

-

I started my first semester that fall. My coursework hadn't been impossible, yet it was still very much challenging. But I wanted to beat Kyle at something so badly I hardly even cared how much I was overexerting myself. And unlike in high school, there wasn't anything higher than a 4.0 GPA. So if I strived for that, even if we ended up tying, at least I wouldn't be losing out to him again.

But I had been put to the test towards the end of that semester. Three of my classes had assigned final papers with deadlines all within the same week. Overall, it would be at least thirty pages worth of writing, and… well, I wasn't exactly the strongest writer out there. And though I managed to get it done I also struggled through it.

When my grades came out, I was disappointed to see that I had gotten one B.

I didn't get the chance to tell Kyle directly that winter; his family had decided to spend the break with relatives in New York. But it had eaten through my conscience, and it was all I could really think about. By the time I returned to school I was determined to have a 4.0 semester to make up for my folly, and I once again did everything in my power to achieve that goal.

But again, I came short: I got my second B.

My sister beat me for it, saying I was crazy to complain about something as petty as that. But she really wouldn't get it. I returned home and waited for Kyle to come home too, and though I mostly wanted to tell Kyle how much I was failing at my goal, I was also scared to see if he'd kept a 4.0 GPA too.

It wasn't that I never talked to him that entire year. We had each others' numbers and addresses, so communication was easy and convenient. But most of those conversations had been short and fleeting, and it was nothing compared to how we used to talk in person. And we never really talked about grades in those conversations, either; that would've been just a little over the top.

However, I was more than happy to hear Kyle's first words when we finally did get the chance to talk about it:

"I got a B." And I almost leapt in joy. He knew why, of course, and he smiled weakly at me as he watched me rejoice. I knew it might've hurt him on the inside (maybe it didn't, but it had at least seemed that way), but it hadn't occurred to me then amidst my excitement.

"I still have a chance!"

"Don't think I'm going to make it any easier for you, though. I'm still one up you, and as long as I don't screw up I'll still end up victorious."

"Whatever, Kyle," I said with a laugh, pushing him lightly. And somehow that had turned into a playful contest of pushing, which had ended with me falling into Stark's Pond—and then, at that moment, it had been his turn to laugh.

The day ended on the grass yet again. I'd dried off and Kyle had stopped laughing, and now we were simply reveling in the silence of nostalgia. We discussed other things besides our grades, like college life in general, extracurricular activities we were doing… and as it turned out, without surprise, Kyle was juggling more things than I was.

"Sometimes I _do_ kind of wish you'd let me win at something for once," I said with a defeated sigh, once I had pointed this out to him. "I know, I know, there wouldn't be any meaning to it, but still…."

"You still haven't told me why you've got this whole thing with beating me to begin with."

"I don't really know either. It's just a good motivation, I guess. Not that I've actually found anything I could beat you at yet."

"I know a few things…."

"Like?"

"Like… getting a girlfriend? You know I'm not very good at that kind of thing."

"Yeah, that's true." And now that I thought about it, I _had_ beaten him to getting a girlfriend first. Though, like with the dodgeball, it wasn't as if he was trying….

But then a thought had come to me. "Hey… wanna see who can get married first?"

"Aren't you trying to beat me at school, first?"

I laughed, waving the thought off. "We can do both at the same time. But I bet this time I'll actually have a chance!"

"As long as you're truly getting married because you love the girl," replied Kyle, giving me a stern look. Not that I really needed that reminder. "And not just because you want to beat me at something."

"Deal."

-

The rest of my college years were rough repeats of my first year. I did manage to make straight A's from that moment on, which made me very happy indeed (even though Kyle was managing the same feat). And throughout those years I also managed to find a decent girl to enter a relationship with, and though the relationship itself was influenced by trying to beat Kyle, I promised myself to not propose to her until I felt like I actually wanted it.

She wasn't that bad of a girl, either. She was several inches shorter than me, and she had a killer smile. When I had introduced her to Kenny, he had remarked she'd looked a lot like Wendy, though I personally disagreed. Sure, she usually wore her black hair long and to her shoulders, but otherwise that had probably been the only similar characteristic. Her eyes weren't the same colors, either—not to mention she was half Asian.

It was the summer before our fourth year when Kyle met her. The introduction itself went well, but it was only after she'd left us for a while when he confronted me about it. But I had already seen it coming, and so I hadn't been quite so angry about his concern.

"Make sure you really… you know, _like_ her… whatever her name was."

"Katrina," I offered, shaking my head. "Look, Kyle, I really do like her, I promise. This isn't just because of that thing from way back when."

"Thing?" asked Kyle, looking around. "Haven't a clue what you're talking about." But he did, of course, and he was simply messing with me. And so he left me with those words, returning back to the eastern coast the next day for one reason or another. And Katrina and I returned to our own college, where we struggled through the fourth and what we hoped was the final year of collegiate education.

For me, it was. From a high school's teacher remark I was studying to be certified as a teacher. It was the only thing I could come with after one year in college, but it had partially come from that remark; "If there's certain subjects you like or at good at and you don't know what profession you want to be, why not become a teacher and spend your life teaching that subject you love?"

Katrina was aiming to be a doctor, though, which meant there'd be a great deal of graduate schooling ahead of her. We'd spent one night talking about it, discussing our plans once that time came when we'd have to split ways. It had almost been like my conversation with Kyle back in high school, except this conversation held more of an influence on the future—less looking at the past, more thinking of what would come. And it didn't last quite as long either; I decided that if I could teach in the state she ended up going to graduate school in, then I'd follow her. And if not… well, it wasn't something I really wanted to think about.

Thankfully, Katrina ended up going to the University of Colorado's School of Medicine, and so I followed her to Denver. The act had somewhat convinced Kyle I was serious about her, but for some reason he still seemed uneasy whenever I talked to him about it. And Kenny—well, of course the guy was proud that I was headed in a "good direction."

After two years of teaching at a local high school in Denver, I decided it was time to start thinking about getting an engagement ring for her. The hardest part was saving up the money for it without Katrina realizing—but oddly enough, Kyle had offered to lend me some money when I had told him my problem. I never really figured out why he did it, or at least not then. But the issue of money soon flew out the window, and now came the question of when.

I had been very conflicted thinking about it. I knew that, after this long of being in a relationship with her, I really wanted this to happen. Yet Kyle's words were still haunting me, that I shouldn't do it for the sake of beating him to it. It gave me reason to think about it again, and just when I thought I knew my answer I began to doubt it again.

Ultimately though, it had been because I was scared to lose out to him that I stopped thinking about it. One midnight, one Christmas morning—I gave her the ring I'd bought only hours ago. And she'd said yes. I remember being so overjoyed—the petty 'contest' I'd made with Kyle hadn't even crossed my mind in that moment. I'd called anyone and everyone I knew would care, and each response I got only made me more excited.

"And I thought I'd be the one making all the phone calls," Katrina said with amusement, and I only laughed it off.

But it was when I got to Kyle—yes, it would be him—that my spirits fell. The best for last, I remember telling myself then. But had it really been the best?

"Oh."

"_Oh_? That's all you have to say?" Katrina cast me a concerned look suddenly, surprised at my negativity. "I finally decided to do it, and that's all you have to say?"

"Yeah," said Kyle. "You sure you really mean it?"

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" I yelled into the phone. "Of course I _love_ her! Why wouldn't I if I proposed to her?"

"I…."

And he hung up.

-

Katrina and I had decided to set the marriage until after she finished school, which meant another two years. We'd sent out the RSVPs anyway (though they were more like reminders to leave the date blank, way in advance), and though I hadn't expected to get any of them returned just yet, somehow we got a lot of responses saying they'd make it, despite how far away it was still.

Kyle's came in the mail about three months after I proposed to Katrina. And it didn't settle too well with me that he 'wasn't going to be able to make it.'

"I'm sure he's got his reasons," Katrina said in an attempt to reassure me.

"What could he have planned in two years that's preventing him from attending?"

Nothing: exactly.

The following summer, roughly a year before the marriage, I decided to pay Kyle a visit. He'd graduated from Princeton and moved onto law school here within Colorado, though at Boulder. He still spent his summers visiting his family, which was when I'd decided to take on the opportunity in confronting him. A simple talk would do the trick, I had been sure, and so I hadn't been expecting any complications.

So naturally, I'd just walked up to his front door and rung the doorbell, all without much thought.

Kyle answered it.

"Hey… what're you—?"

"Can I have a word?"—and before he could even respond I pulled him up his stairs and into his room. It was very much empty, mainly because it was only a guest room now and not his own. But I didn't spend much time looking at the passing of time; as soon as Kyle sat onto his head I unleashed my assault of words. "Why aren't you coming to my wedding, exactly? There's no way you've got something planned that far in advance, unless you've got your own wedding, which is unlikely, let alone it being that same weekend, which is also unlikely. And I'm sure if that really were the case you would've told me!"

"Would I have?"

"I don't know, _would_ you have? Or is this you beating me out again without me realizing it?"

Kyle shook his head to this. "I would have told you. But I still can't believe you're living by that stupid principle."

"Stupid? You're the one that set that standard for me!"

"…what the hell are you talking about? You're the one that randomly told me this stupid ploy of yours, how you've always tried beating me!"

"Because you're the one that told me to!" I had stepped onto fragile ground. Now Kyle had no clue as to what I was going on about—and there was no going back this time. And whether Kyle really did remember, I soon found out. "You're the one that's always been telling me to catch up to you, ever since we were little. Even in preschool, that day we made pictures for our dads, you told me to catch up to you. But then I kept failing, and so I was determined to catch up and surpass you one day, and…."

Kyle had been struck with awe, though I hadn't known if it'd been good or bad. He was at the least silent, giving this incredulous glare, perhaps unbelieving. And it was then when I realized I was in for it. "You mean to say you took something I said when I was four, and allowed it to guide twenty four years of your life? Really, Stan?"

"I… maybe…."

"I don't even know where to begin commenting on that, Stan, and maybe it's better if I don't. But since you've done your bit of sharing, I think it's time I've had mine."

"Had… yours…?"

"Several things, actually. First, I've been trying to hint at this for a while now, but I've never really gotten it in anywhere. But this "motivation" of yours… if you ask me, not to rain on your parade, but I'm thinking it's slightly misguided. You claim you've never been able to beat me at anything, but when you surpassed me at dodgeball you waved it off as not good enough. I don't really know what's been going on in your head all this time, but there's loads of stuff you can do that I can't. You're an awesome baseball player, yet I don't know anything about it. You're good with talking to girls, and I'm… well, not. But I'm sure you've probably dismissed these in one way or another, too.

"The fact is, Stan, I at least appreciate that I've been your idol and benchmark in terms of the quality of the things you did. But there really is no way one can "catch up" to someone in the way you've been seeing it all this time. There are things one can do that the other can't, and there are just things you're better than me at—but for some reason you can't see this. And I don't know what will make you see it—except maybe when you finally 'won' at something, in your standards. But even something as marriage shouldn't be taken as so, and it was a very thin line to tread, even for me to watch. So your engagement… yeah, I'm a little wary about it."

"So what you're saying is," I began, and I could feel the anger rising within me, "you let me beat you to marriage in order to make me see the error of my ways? Didn't you promise you wouldn't purposely let me beat you? And is that why you helped me pay for the ring, to speed up the process? I can't believe you!"

"You're missing the point!" Kyle shrieked back at me. "I don't care about your stupid… thing from the past! It shouldn't be about that…! Besides, getting married and getting a wife is something you were bound to beat me in, anyway!"

"…what? Why? So you knew you could never win, which is why you made that proposal?"

"Stan, get that fucking idea out of your head! It's not about me trying to catch up to—no, you trying to catch up to me, whichever the hell it was."

"Then why not?"

"Because I l—because…" he hung his head, getting up from the bed and walking towards the window. He gazed out for several quick moments, perhaps to catch his breath—but in my anger I had reached forward and turned him to me.

"Kyle—"

"I'm hopelessly in love with someone who's too blind to ever see it, to someone who'll now never be able to understand or reciprocate. That's why I knew, in your terms, you'd 'win.'"

"What's wrong with that, just—oh."

And I understood.

-

I'm not homophobic, I promise. But sometimes when things come at you suddenly , you tend to feel both shocked and panicked, at the same time. Added to my previous rage that had built up, my ultimate reaction had been a sock to the jaw and a hasty exit back to my house.

I didn't want to think about it—I never did, it seemed. But one thought did come to me as I tried to sleep off my frustration: Why didn't he ever tell me? And for how long…?—but that was now two questions, and I didn't really feel like thinking about it anymore than I already had, so I left it at two questions and two questions only.

I drove home the following day. I tried to live life as if it had never happened, but it had been hard. Katrina noticed it, but she left me alone in the moments I was struggling—and I thanked her for it. She knew it was hard, struggling with best friend conflicts… or at least, that was what I'd been calling it.

Eventually it did pass, at least on my part. The one year was painful, but the anticipation of the marriage made the wait seem a bit easier to bear. Around Christmas time we sent out another wave of RSVPs and reminders for the wedding, and we'd gotten even more responses back, all filled with enthusiasm and excitement. But again, like before, Kyle's came back with a no.

It didn't feel too long before Katrina graduated with her degree finally obtained, and not even too long after that I was hearing wedding bells. It was a relatively traditional Catholic wedding. I remember standing on the altar with nervousness stamped all over me, ants having raided my pants. I was much too excited to see her walk down that aisle, I could hardly think of anything else….

And then I saw her, and my heart flew off somewhere in its delusional yet joyous state. I'd been so happy, staring into her eyes, speaking the vows, closing it off with a kiss…. It had felt like that moment when I'd proposed to her, when I could think of nothing else except the joy the moment brought me….

Suddenly I wanted Kyle to experience this feeling, too, but I couldn't explain why. But then it came back at me hard, like a yoyo slung across the room but still attached to me by the thin thread. He'd never get that chance, and I was the cause.

Yet something was very off about that story of his, and throughout the entire reception party, though I did celebrate as any newlywed would, I sought out a way to find it out.

-

It was either Kyle changed his number or he was ignoring my calls, but in either case I couldn't get a hold of him by phone. And so, as my last and final attempt, I sent him an email.

_Kyle,_

_I think I'm starting to understand everything you've been trying to tell me now. I'm sorry for being blinded all this time… but I'm sure you understand, right? I was just following a goal that meant a lot to me…. It's just like pursuing a career, only not as important I guess._

_But as for why I'm really writing this email. I never meant to hit you that day. I'm sorry I reacted the way I did, and I know you're probably very angry at me for my reaction. I just wasn't expecting it, and I was pretty angry at the time. I'm not mad at you or anything, but I can't obviously return the feelings as you predicted. I'm married now; can you believe it? Probably._

_What's bugging me is that you said you'd never be able to beat me at it, because you were hopelessly in love with me. But… why? I hope and I know that you won't love only one person and one person only; the Kyle I know wouldn't be that pathetic._

_I want you to move on, for your sake and mine. Years later, I think it's finally time for me to say this to you: As I was, now you too are blinded. There's more fish out there in the sea. Go get 'em._

_Stan._

-

Now when I look back upon everything, I do see myself as being very pathetic. Two best friends fighting over something someone said at the age of four? Misinterpretations left and right, seeing down a straight path without ever straying from the road?—we were just a bunch of naïve idiots, in the end.

But it turned out all right, in the end. For the most part, everything turned out for the better.

-

When Katrina had our first child, I was once again filled with the overwhelming feeling I'd felt twice now. And it was then I realized the true weight of Kyle's words, that there really was, truly, more to this world than trying to be the best.

With Katrina's permission, I named him Kyle. Kyle Alexander Marsh.

-

Kyle's email had been short but simple, and it had indeed given me a laugh.

_Stan,_

_Just as I would've told you catching up to me isn't surpassing me, not being able to beat you to marriage doesn't mean I'll never get there._

_Kyle._

-

Off the record, the one B Kyle got was the only B he ever got in college. As I predicted, he'd always win out in academics. Though it doesn't mean much to me now, I'm still wondering why I'd even tried to one-up him at that.

-

The real reason I've paused to think about all of that again was because today Kyle (my kid) brought home something interesting from preschool today. It was a sheet of paper, and Katrina and I half-expected to see a note from the teacher, or maybe a report on how he's been doing lately. He's actually quite the devil, and lately we have been getting bad reports from his teacher.

But lo and behold, the page was just a bunch of rough scribbles, and titled at the top (with every other letter backwards) was 'Happy Father's Day.'

It gave me a laugh when I saw it, and I immediately pinned it onto our refrigerator. Katrina doesn't really get it; to her it's just a nice thought from our child. But to me, it signifies my entire life, how a similar assignment triggered the phrase that determined almost everything in my life. It was my reminder of you, how you set me onto the path—and then led me to the beauties off the path as well.

I don't really know if it's for the better or the worse, but I'm not sure how much I care. Life will move on, no matter how much I might want to change the past.

You and Dr. Seuss both said it best:

Don't cry because it's over,

Smile because it happened.


End file.
